Push
by WitheringSage
Summary: Sophia and Lancelot make love for the first time. Raja is having difficulties with her feelings of resentment that stem from her own past.


**Push**

_Every time I look at you_

_the world just melts away._

_All my troubles, all my fears_

_dissolve in your affections._

_You've seen me at my weakest,_

_but you take me as I am_

_And when I fall you offer me_

_a softer place to land. _

Chronology: Tristan is 29. Lancelot is 27. Raja is 19.

It had been raining heavily outside for well near two weeks. The men were out on a routine patrol, Raja had been ordered to stay behind. Ever since she had entered the legion, it was common for her to be excluded when certain weather arose. When winter came, she never journeyed with them. There was no point, one cold night would have her coughing up a lung, and by the second night she would be bordering on a fever. The same went for times, like now, when it was raining constantly, despite it being the end of summer. Instead, she worked in Arthur's study, which was a maelstrom of papers and maps. For a Commander, who led soldiers with the utmost efficiency, he was terribly disorganized in other matters. Raja had kept his papers in order every now and again when she was a child, but after her Uncle left for Egypt when she was sixteen, she began to take care of Arthur's written work on a regular basis.

Raja had just completed the daily task of reorganizing his missives, and was now in the sewing room with Vanora, Sophia, Thea and five other women whose ages ranged from twenty to thirty-eight. Vanora's four female children were with them as well, the three boys out making mischief with the other village children. The Egyptian woman had few women friends, Vanora was the closest she had, but she never minded sitting with them in conversation from time to time, normally at Vanora's insistent invitation. She could knit, sew and thread as well as the rest of them, and that was usually what she did among these times. She made socks for Tristan, and the rest of her brothers, or mended his breeches and tunics like a "dutiful wife." But right now she was sharpening her dagger as the others chattered, the torrent of rain splashing against the windows.

"Oh, he is an animal in the sack, I tell you!" Tressa, aged twenty-four, exclaimed.

Raja inwardly groaned. When they began to talk of their lovers or husbands, they had no compunctions of trying to butt into her and Tristan's love life, or anyone else's for that matter.

Thea cleared her throat, gesturing her head with pursed lips at the four young girls in the room.

"Pfft!" was Tressa's reply. "They'll have to learn of these matters sooner or later!"

"Preferably later," Vanora spoke without looking up from her needle and thread.

"I'm sure they are well acquainted with these matters as much as you and your man rut around, Nora." Samara, a twenty-seven year old married woman, smirked at Vanora. They were good friends.

The other women tittered, and Vanora looked at each one of them with a graceful smile. "Girls," she addressed her daughters, "why don't you all run out and find your brothers, hmm?"

"But Mother!" This was number four.

"No 'buts,'" Vanora admonished. "Off with you now, these are adult conversations."

With mumbled complaints, the two other daughters took the two younger daughters by the hands and left the room.

"Now!" Vanora said, setting her knitting on her lap. "Who are you to talk of Bors and me when you and your man are far worse!"

Samara raised her nose, not embarrassed a bit. "Xander is a very good lover, and I will not apologize for basking in his expertise."

The only two women in the room who were listening, but attempting to disengage themselves from the notice of others were Sophia and Raja. Sophia was a virgin and twenty-three, and although she wasn't ashamed of that fact, she still did not want to become the center of attention if it were found out. As for Raja, she wasn't exactly the gossiping type about Tristan's sexual prowess, although she always assured them that Tristan was not anywhere lacking in the pleasing department. Another thing was, before Tristan had married her, he had slept with many women around the fort, and those women knew things about Tristan's sexual wants as much as she did. Though, their experiences were far different from Raja's.

"He's certainly bedded enough women to gain that expertise," commented Ludmilla, thirty-two and married, good-naturedly.

Samara waved off her assertion. "What woman's man in this room has not bedded several women!" Her eyes pointedly rested on Sophia, Raja and Vanora.

Sophia and Raja exchanged discreet glances. Sophia was involved with Lancelot, certainly the most promiscuous of the knights, for near four months now. A month and a half ago, she had been stabbed in the back during a tavern brawl when she tried to push him out of the way of the blade's attack. When she had awoken two weeks later, Lancelot had been by her side, looking the most disheveled she had ever seen him, which was the night he had told her he loved her. He had been nothing but attentive to her since then, barely glancing at any other woman at any time. The two of them had yet to make love, although they had been exploring one another's bodies quite thoroughly as of late.

"You're one to talk," Thea said to Samara. "No doubt you've slept with your share of men before you married Xander."

"And I am not the least bit regretful. I had my fun then, and now I have _all_ my fun with my husband."

Tressa cleared her throat. "And how many men did you have fun with before your nuptials? Can you even remember?" The other women in the room laughed.

Samara was silent for a moment, and they thought she was offended before she spoke. "Sixteen." She paused. "Yes, sixteen is my number. And what about you Tressa? Care to share?" All eyes in the room, save for two pairs, turned to Tressa.

She bit her lip, a slight blush creeping on her cheeks. "Five."

"Who was the best one?" Briony, twenty years old, blurted.

The blush on Tressa's face grew darker. She was a nice woman, good-hearted, and never intentionally set out to hurt another's feelings. "They were all quite well."

The women objected to this. "A woman always remembers their best fuck!" Claire, an outspoken, thirty-year old woman exclaimed.

Tressa's bit the inside of her cheek, truly wanting to not reveal her answer, but the quick, furtive glance in Sophia's direction went noticed by all. The room became quiet, some purposely trying to avoid looking at the young woman.

Then Sophia broke the tension. "Well, it's not exactly a secret that he," – she could not quite bring herself to say his name – "has slept with a lot of women." She smiled to show that she was not in the least bit offended. She was a realistic woman, and knew all this going into her relationship with Lancelot.

Tressa looked immensely relieved that Sophia was not resentful towards her.

Claire, her boldness growing, affirmed, "A lot is probably an understatement. Three other women in this room have had the pleasure of his talents. I, for one, will certainly miss them now that he is...spoken for." She winked at Sophia.

"Pigs can fly," Briony muttered, looking frustrated at her crooked knitting.

Claire pegged the one woman who had yet to add anything to the conversation. "And what of you, Raja?" Despite the fact that the Egyptian woman was different from a vast majority of the other women in the fort, and in the room, Claire genuinely enjoyed her company, and found her blunt humor to be refreshing.

Raja raised her eyebrows. "What of what?" She eased her facial muscles to show she was not piqued at the sudden attention. This was what happened when you sat amongst a group of women who loved to gossip, which Raja had no compunctions with, but her own sexual history left much to be desired.

"What is your number?" Briony asked. "Besides Tristan, of course." Her last comment was clipped off, she being somewhat intimidated by Raja.

_That_ was the question she hated. Did she lie or tell the truth? Her number was three, excluding Tristan. And before she knew it, Their faces flashed in her mind, and she was not even aware of what she had said before she saw the stunned faces on the women's faces. All the faces besides Vanora.

"Three." Samara repeated. An upside down grin masked her face.

"How old were you?" Briony asked.

Raja had long ago learned to school her expressions to exude casualness when a topic such as this arose in her presence. She silently cursed herself for blurting the truth. What the hell was wrong with her?

Luckily, Vanora saved her. "How old were you, Briony?"

Her face rouged, but not wanting to seem an immature prude she told the truth. "Seventeen."

Claire snorted. "You have two years on me."

"I was seventeen as well," Samara added.

"Eighteen." Ludmilla.

"Twenty." Thea.

"Nineteen." Tressa.

"Eighteen." Vanora.

_Six_, Raja thought.

Sophia continued to remain silent. Claire cleared her throat indicatively at the two women. Vanora was watching Raja, ready to come to her aid, but the trumpeters at the walls sounded their horns, declaring the arrival of the knights' return.

All but Raja went out into the now, slowly trickling rain, to meet them. Sophia waited near Vanora while the men dismounted, muddy, sore, and soaked. The free ones smiled at the throng of women who tittered and waved, Bors and Vanora were already wrapped together in a showy kiss, with bastards huddled around them. Lancelot ignored the females who looked at him adoringly, as he only had eyes for Sophia. An almost boyish grin spread on his face as he walked towards her. He pulled her to him, against his solid armor, clamping his lips to hers, which had been denied to him for three long days and nights.

Entering his room, Lancelot had her in another passionate kiss that lasted until they both had insufficient amount of air to continue.

"Miss me?" he asked, her head cupped between his hands.

"Not really, no." She raised her chin and averted her eyes in jest.

Lancelot chuckled, kissing her one more time before he began to unbuckle his armor. She moved to help him with the harder to reach straps, shaking her head at the bulk of such a thing. Carefully, she put it aside, assisting him in undoing his tunic, boots and other sodden, wet articles of clothing, until only his leather breeches remained, covering a full erection.

Before any comment could be made, Lancelot turned Sophia so his chest was against her back. "Your turn," he breathed into her ear. Truly, he had been aching for this moment, and all the more as he had been without sex for near five months. He had her heart, and she had his, and now he wanted her to have the rest of him.

Sophia relaxed against him, his hard chest against the back of her head. Her cloak dropped to her feet, and Lancelot's large hands trailed down her neck to the ties of her dress that held the bosom together. He squeezed them gently, his hardness jutting into her lower back. Her body quivered as his fingers slowly untied her strings to slide her dress just below her breasts. He kissed the slope of her neck, his hot breath wafting over her silky skin. The pads of this thumbs tweaked her taught nipples, causing her legs to quiver and her knees to buckle. Lancelot's strong arm caught her around the waist, holding her up, tighter against him. He brought her arm behind her back, leading her hand to his pressing, hidden erection. Without even looking, her hands found the laces of his breeches, pulling at the tie, loosening his bondage.

Sophia's hand slipped down near his groin, brushing her fingers against his pubic hair, tickling the tips of her fingers on the base of his penis, while he continued to knead her breasts, and pinch her aching beads. He pulled her dress further down to reveal her flat stomach, one hand delving to her nether regions, cupping her mound of tight curls between her legs to feel the moistness of her desire.

Lancelot disengaged her hand from his phallus, turning her around to face him, her breasts pressing against his chest as their tongues danced together. He led her towards his bed, gently laying her back as he knelt to his knees. He took off her shoes, then pulled down the rest of her offensive garments that hid her sweetness. He could only look at her, enraptured at the beauty of her netherlips, the pink glistening with her juices.

"Lancelot." She bit her lip, anxiously awaiting his next overture.

His response was to slide her towards him, his dark eyes focusing on hers. She braced herself on the edge of the bed with her heels, digging deep at the first touch of his lips against her sex. She cried out, nails digging into blanket, back arching, toes curling. A succession of rapid-fire orgasms coursed through her, leaving her tingling. Lancelot licked his lips as if he just tasted the sweetest fruit of his life. When he stood up, she supported herself on her elbows, legs still open, chest heaving, as she watched him pull down his own restricting apparel.

The sight of his rock-hard member made brazen thoughts run through her head, thoughts anyone would be surprised a virgin could even think of. And that made her realize the extreme openness of her actions. Then it hit her – once his sex penetrated her, she would not longer be the virgin she had been for the past twenty-three years. It was a notion that hit her with such forceful clarity that even Lancelot was receptive to it, his eyebrows furrowing in consternation. With the grace of a cat, he spread himself over her, his shaft pressed between them. He kissed her softly, surely.

"Are you all right?" His voice was husky.

She couldn't quite bring herself to speak, but she was shaking and not from the aftereffects of an orgasm.

"Shh." He stroked her face with the backs of his fingers, tucking her hair behind her ear. Lancelot glided the pads of his fingers across her collarbone, shifting his weight to gain adequate entry. The closeness of her own thighs, which seemed to be barring him from her velvet sheath, made him hesitate, the weight of his forthcoming words difficult to speak. "Do you..." – his eyes shut tightly for a mere second, then opened again to see her own wide eyes – "want me to stop?" And his eyes were pleading with her.

"I'm suddenly very aware that soon I will no longer be a virgin." Sophia's smile faltered with nervous uncertainty.

Taking care to hide his relief at the word 'soon' he smiled at her reassuringly. "Then this is something new for both of us."

"This isn't anything new for you, Lancelot," she said.

"Hmm, yes it is." He kissed her again. "You, my lady, are being bedded for the first time. And I, am bedding a woman, the woman, I love for the first time."

He couldn't have said anything more perfect, revealing his own vulnerability to her. So they moved together, their bodies easing to accommodate the other. The head of his penis was poised at her wet entry, she widened her thighs a bit more, and then he pushed. The deeper he went, the more painful it was, despite her bodily lubrication. Lancelot felt her discomfort, slowing his movements so that she could get used to the size of him. Little by little he traveled inside her channel until he came to the thin veil of her innocence. Sophia felt the increased pressure in her lower stomach, and the entire bulk of Lancelot within her. Their bodies were already covered with a thin sheen of sweat.

When Lancelot felt her body ease, he surged forward, breaking through.

Sophia gasped in pain, her nails digging into Lancelot's shoulders. Her entire body went rigid, her head buried in his neck, tiny whimpers in his ear, as her breast heaved. With his comforts, she began to relax.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I didn't want that to hurt." He showered with her an array of kisses. "I'm sorry."

Her walls clenched around his phallus as she deepened their kiss. She could still feel the sting of the ultimate penetration, but it gradually began to recede as his body rocked with hers. Her soft hands ran down his scarred back, his body becoming alive at the touch of her fingers on the dead tissue that marred his skin. Sophia and Lancelot climbed higher and higher, until he spilled inside of her for the first time, saturating her with his own liquids, as his climax sounded.

"Gods, Sophia..." Lancelot was speechless. "Sophia." He collected himself, finally able to raise his head to look at her. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Lancelot."

His was completely aware of her, all of her...her breathing was less erratic than his. When she saw his expression, she bit her lip, hoping that he wouldn't have noticed.

"You..." He shook his head, disbelieving what his mind was telling him.

"It's all right."

"No! It's not all right!" He raised himself high enough so his chest was free from hers.

"How could..."

"Really, Lancelot-"

"I have never failed to make a woman reach her peak!" he blurted. "Shit, I didn't mean it like that."

"I know, Lancelot, it's my fault, really. I just..."

"_Your_ fault?" He slid off and out of her, free of her warm sheath, he could feel the coolness on his damp penis. "No, no, no." Lancelot was genuinely mortified. When had a woman never climaxed with him? He thought back...no, too many women, but he was certain he had never failed to please any of them. He swung his legs over the bed, his feet touching the cold floor, his head in his hands. "This was supposed to be good for you."

"It was!" She winced as she shifted her position so she could sit behind him, not failing to notice the little bit of blood on her thighs. Sophia put her hands on his back. "It was, Lancelot, I promise you."

He looked back at her dubiously.

She kissed the nape of his neck. "Not many women get to lose their virginity to the man they love. Or to a man that truly cares about them. Some do not get to choose at all. So how can you say that this was anything _but_ good for me?"

Lancelot sighed at the ring of truth in her words. Then a sly smile struck his lips at his next thought. "We can always try again."

"I am ready when you are."

---------------------------------------------

Tristan noted the increasing distance his Raja had been putting between she and him, and others, for that matter. It was exceptionally noticeable when he had returned from patrol three days ago. When he had greeted her there was something of a morosely ponderous nature about her. And they had not made love in a month. It was gradual at first, then nonexistent. She would gladly take him into her mouth, or stroke him lovingly with her hands, but they had not fully coupled together. And after a while, he had begun to feel she was doing it out of obligation. It wasn't her menses, that much he had gathered, and her sleeping had been calm, no night terrors to speak of. Of course, over the years they had decreased in quantity, and in force. Raja rarely lapsed into complete oblivion in her mind, but rather, it was now a meditative isolation. She was easier to reach, safer to approach.

For the past month, she had developed a form of reticence in her bed manner. She rarely snuggled herself into his arms, although she never made any move to dislodge herself from his hold on her at night. She willfully embraced him, lovingly as always, nothing had changed in her affection towards him, save for sex. Tristan surmised that something important had occurred during his three day absence, but he had no idea what. She would spend hours writing in her journal, reading or taking walks and rides with Odin when the weather permitted.

Now, Tristan looked at her from his peripheral vision as he drank his ale, the cacophony of patronage a mere thrum to his ears in the tavern.

"Who would have thought our Lance would ever become a one woman man!" Bors shouted.

"Aye, look at how he can't keep his eyes off of his beautiful Sophia!" Gawain slurred, taking another slug of his drink.

Lancelot rolled his eyes, his smile hidden behind his cup. True, he could not keep his eyes off of his Sophia. Their eyes would meet around the tavern as she served the customers, and he shook his head at the twinges of jealousy – jealousy! – he felt when the other men looked at her. He also felt a sense of smugness, knowing that her body and heart was his. And her body was magnificent. After that first time, they had tried again...and again...none of those times failing to bring her, or him, to the heights of erotic pleasure.

"Lancelot," – Bors smacked him on the back in camaraderie – "you have joined the ranks of monogamy. It's a helluva lot of work."

Vanora, who had been approaching, smirked. "Work?"

"Ah, Nora!" Bors held his husky arms out to her. "It's pleasurable work!"

"I hope so," said Sophia, sauntering to the table with a jug of ale. Lancelot pulled her onto his lap, giving her a soft kiss on her neck.

Raja did not fail to notice the slight discomfiture of Sophia's sitting. She stopped herself from expressing a resentful look at the woman's obvious pains that sex first brought to virgins. She could not help but wonder if those pains were different from having sex too much after being broken in. Raja quickly dispelled that thought from her mind, chastising herself for her ridiculous notions. But her feelings still swam deep inside of her, and she knew she had to get away before she said something she would regret. And so sudden was her conviction she got up from the table with more incivility than she had intended, that caught the eyes of the men at the table. She left without a word.

The cool evening breeze hit Raja's face, calming the barrage of emotions that were becoming threatening to her poise. She walked up the steps to the wall, standing in a hidden, dark corner, away from anyone's sight from below or from the guards. She sat between the parapets, with her legs on the solid side of the wall, staring out into the grim forestry.

For quite a few weeks she had been trying to identify a certain feeling that had been plaguing her about, of all people, Sophia. And then, a few days ago, the same feeling sprang up with the women she had been in the company of three days ago. Raja had not realized how that conversation had so sorely affected her until later that night when Tristan had put his arms around her. She squeezed her eyes shut at the thought, she knew her behavior was less than desirable lately. She had not quite felt the stirrings of sexual want as strongly as she normally would have, and to quell any suspicion she would pleasure Tristan without taking any of his offerings in return. The Egyptian knew he was consternated, but she was, too. Raja had tried numerous times to talk with Tristan about it, but every time she began to speak she felt waves of embarrassment and shame. What did virginity feel like? Such were her thoughts.

----------------------------------------------

"Vanora." Tristan caught the red headed woman leaving the tavern with Bors. "Can I speak with you for a moment?"

Bors and Vanora glanced at each other. "Don't keep her too long, Tristan. I have plans." He patted Vanora's rear, sending her a lascivious grin before heading away.

She and Tristan sat on a bench against a wall several paces away. Vanora wrapped her shawl around her. "This is about Raja." Why else would Tristan want to speak with her in private?

Tristan had run out of options. After Raja's abrupt exit from the pub, he couldn't fathom what was going through her head. He rarely sought out advice about her from anyone, as he knew her best of all, but obviously something had occurred while he had been away, and Vanora would be the most likely to know what, and she could be trusted to remain discreet.

"Do you know if something happened while I was gone? She's been really distant."

"Hmm." Vanora nodded her head. She had noticed the vast change of mood since all the women had spoken of their sexual history. "I can only think of one thing. The day you arrived back, I invited her to sit with me and some other women in the sewing room. Eventually, the topic moved to...a sexual content."

Tristan nodded his head, making no indication to interrupt her.

Vanora continued. "The women spoke of how old they were when they first bedded a man, and how many men they had lain with as well. It was all in good nature," she assured Tristan. "Nothing snide in anyone's tone. But Raja was asked how many men she had had...other than you." She tipped her head, remembering the brief flash of indecision in Raja's eyes, and her valiant attempt at keeping her composure. Vanora had always saw Raja as the little sister she never had, and she'd been there during some of Raja's difficult times in her childhood.

"What did she say?"

Silence. "Three."

Tristan's expression betrayed nothing, but now he understood.

"I don't think she meant for that to come out," Vanora told him, taking his silence for agitation.

"I know," he replied.

"She was also asked how old she was when she first..."

Tristan's head turned fully to look at her, rendering Vanora silent.

"But that was when the trumpets sounded, so the subject was dropped," she added after a moment of silence.

"Hmm." He rose, as did Vanora. "Thank you, I think I know what's bothering her now."

She smiled sympathetically at him. "Of course."

Tristan walked Vanora home, as it was dark now, then he went to his and Raja's room, which was unoccupied. He waited for a while, and just as he going to go out and look for her, she entered the bedroom.

He smiled at her. "I was just about to find you."

She returned his smile. "I figured so." Raja gave him a kiss and began to ready herself for bed.

Tristan stripped down to his breeches, settling himself on the bed as he watched Raja undress to her skin before putting on her shift that ended at her ankles. She poked at the fire to get it going again, then she slid into bed next to him. She kissed him on the cheek, then settled herself comfortably, her back to him.

He sighed softly. He touched the nape of her neck with the tips of his fingers, but it elicited no response. "Raja."

Her heart beat faster. There was something in his voice that she knew would make her reveal all the ridiculous things that had been consuming her. He was worried about her, she knew, but the idiotic causes of her behavior...

"You are not asleep yet." He trailed the backs of his fingers down her arm. "Look at me, Raja."

Her fists clenched under her chin, willing him to cease with his tender ministrations. She gave little resistance to the tug of his hand which rolled her on her back. Her eyes met his in abashment, the concern in his golden eyes was too much.

He supported himself on his forearm, stroking her face lovingly. She tried to turn her face away but his hand impeded her movement, insisting that she not distance herself further.

"Tell me what's wrong, Raja."

"It's foolish, Tristan. It will pass." Her attempt at thwarting the conversation was in vain.

"No," he said firmly. "Whatever it is, it is causing you pain." Tristan took her hand in his, stroking the back of it as it lay on her chest.

"Do you remember what it was like to be a virgin?" Raja clenched her jaw, flooded with self-disgust.

"I'm not sure there is a difference." That was the best way he could answer her question.

She looked at him in bemusement. "You felt no differently after you first had sex?"

Pause. "There might be a difference between men and women."

Raja scoffed. "I don't remember it clearly either. I first had sex at the age of six to three wonderful men, I barely had time to think about the weight of what lying with a man meant." The scorn in her voice increased with every word.

"You know I hate it when you talk about it like that."

"Fine, I won't talk about. Go to sleep." She turned back on her side so fast that he couldn't stop her.

He cursed himself for sounding insensitive. "Raja, don't turn your back on me."

She held herself in a tight ball. Tristan thought she was going to continue to be stubborn, until he heard her sniffle. Raja shut her eyes, holding her tears in check. When her body became more rigid, Tristan knew she was becoming even more upset, and his heart ached. He wrapped her in his arms.

"I'm jealous of them, Tristan," she whispered after a long spell. "The women were talking about when they first coupled, and how many. None of them bedded a man before they were fifteen. I resent the fact that they had a choice." Her voice was clearly dripping with self-loathing because she knew she was feeling sorry for herself. "What's worse..."

Tristan waited for her resume speaking. He gave a reassuring squeeze to let her know that he understood her.

"What's worse...I feel anger when I see Lancelot and Sophia together. I'm angry because she was able to lay with the man she loves for her first time. And he is the one who got to lay with the woman he loves for the first time. She wasn't...used."

"Oh, Raja." He held her shaking body, easing her around to face him.

"I told you it was foolish," she said through a broken voice.

"It isn't." He kissed the top of her head, spiriting away her tears with tender kisses. "It isn't foolish at all."

"You should have been first," she whispered, pressing herself against him.

Tristan rained comfort on her. Her sorrow was palpable, and he had a feeling words would do little. "You know I love you more than anything, Raja. I told you, our first night, that I was the first one to make love to you. And I'll be the last to make love to you. Those women..." He raised her chin so he could look at her. "Those women had nothing like what we had, and still do. Two people could live a dozen lifetimes with the person they love and still never feel what we feel when we're together. Not everyone can have what we have, and I'd wager that few people do. Your body, Raja" – he kissed her deeply – "has only given me more pleasure as time goes on. I can still feel you when you walk into the room, your lips, your hands..." Raja was beginning to respond to him. One leg was over his hip, and the ferocity of her emotions was bubbling over as tears fell down her cheeks. "All of you...Raja...Nothing we have is for granted."

And it wasn't. They made love that night, and the peace and completeness that only two people in love can feel, washed over them as they slept in the other's arms.

---------------------------------------------

Lancelot watched Sophia as she slept. Their love making had reached greater heights than he could have possibly imagined.

"They were all right," he whispered to her sleeping form. "It's better with someone you love."

He held her tightly against him, feeling a hush of serenity that had never befell him with any other woman. Lancelot looked forward to waking up next to Sophia, her warm body in his arms, the fresh smell of her hair tickling his face. With that thought in mind, he willed himself to sleep, so that the morning would come sooner.

_You make me feel less crazy,_

_when otherwise I'd drown_

_But you pick me up and brush me off_

_and tell me I'm okay._

_Sometimes that's just what we need_

_to get us through the day._

_-Sarah McLachlan _

4/5/07


End file.
